What Happens After
by AssessTheSituation
Summary: 'It's impossible,' Tron thought 'I may not have an excessive knowledge of emotions, but I know Flynn does not regard me in such a way.' Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hello all, I'm very new to this. I've never written a fiction before, much less with a pairing. I'm quite aware of the small slash commnity pertaining to Tron and the rain of negative reviews that could come down on my head, but for some reason, I just had to write this story. Please review, I'm not going to demand reviews for another chapter, but they do give me motovation to write. I welcome reviews and constructive critizism, I would, however, appreciate no flames. If you do not like Tron, like Tron slash, of Tron and Flynn as 'together', then please exit the fic, don't take the time to tell me excessively how it's wrong and that you don't like it. So for the saving of time, this is SLASH: a man in a relationship with another man. And no, I don't know Tron or any of the characters.

Blue eyes scanned the crowd of the End of Line club. All programs of various types and designations were there. Many danced on the light-pulsing floor, bodies mingling together effortlessly to the loud beats and strums of the music playing, seemingly without end. The lights from their circuits, reflected off the other programs dancing next to them, high-lighting their features with a luminescent glow, all the while swaying in a cohesive rhythm. Those not participating in dancing were off to the side, glasses in hand, speaking with other programs animatedly, receiving an occasional laugh or other such positive reaction.

One particular pair of programs sat at a table with drinks untouched; huddling next to each other, speaking in hushed voices. The male program would occasionally touch the female, a gentle sliding of his hand across hers; a passive action that could be explained away if confronted on. Though the other program didn't seem to mind the caresses, she even appeared to be encouraging them. Perhaps that was the point of speaking so softly, so the two programs engaged in conversation would have to be closer together, so one could touch the other, as surely they would be unable to hear one another with such noise blasting from the DJs and filling the room, almost competing with the programs already occupying the space.

Whatever the reason programs felt the need to speak to each other in a place that was obviously not meant for efficient conversation was of no matter to the security program known Tron, who found himself sitting on a stool at the bar area, with an uncared for drink, and trying to understand what the purpose of him being there was. He drew his eyes away from the two programs, looking at each other in a way Tron could not fully comprehend and rested his gaze once more upon the dancers in the center of the club.

In a sense, Tron did know _why_ he was at End of Line, and such reasons could only be traced back to Flynn, Flynn who insisted that Tron needed to 'get out more'. When Tron attempted to explain to Flynn that he 'went out' all the time, as was necessary, for he was a security program and it was his purpose to patrol the Grid carefully and with precision. Flynn, however, laughed and said that wasn't quite what he meant, that he felt Tron should be more social with other programs, _outside_ of what his security programing offered.

So now Tron found himself at End of Line, a place that he was sure Flynn would dub 'sociable' as he was surrounded by multiple programs, most of who had no qualms interacting with each other. What had Tron questioning his presence in such a place was why Flynn felt he needed to intermingle with others. Was it something that could interfere with his efficiency as a security program? Tron wouldn't believe so. He was updated continuously with better software and data, and ran self-diagnostics regularly to ensure there were no problems that could hinder him unable to be a proficient protector of the Grid. Tron found no decline in his capabilities and came to the conclusion that being more social would have no great impact on his functions.

Tron assumed it was Flynn's way of trying to get him to embrace the behavioral evolution that the User was seeing starting to take place within the programs. Programs that were now interacting with each other for no other reason than to talk, spending time with each other for no other reason than to just be with another being, acting both physically and emotionally in a way that Flynn described as "Being more and more like the Users that created them every day". Tron, however, was content with just being as he was designed, no more, no less. He only wanted to carry out his prime directive to the best of his ability, and found no reason to explore User ways. But Flynn insisted and Tron found himself complying with Flynn's request. The security program found he hardly if ever, didn't go along with something asked of him by Flynn.

Tron presumed he'd spent enough time at End of Line and moved to leave; hoping this detour of his regular routine would be enough to placate Flynn for a time.

"Leaving so soon, are we?" A voiced asked from a little ways behind and Tron turned to see the End of Line club owner himself, Zuse, descend from the DJs box.

"J'adore ca garcons, j'adore ca!" called the white haired program to his musical prodigies as he finished the last few steps and re-focused his attention back to Tron.

"Yes, actually,' replied the security program, 'I have spent sufficient time here and need to return to my duties." Tron stood up, but his forward action to leave the club was halted when Zuse came swiftly to his side, grasped his shoulder, and pushed him back into a seated position.

"Spent sufficient time?' Now Trony merely sitting at the bar for half a micro-cycle is hardly what I'd call 'sufficient time'. Zuse flashed the brunette program a cheeky smile and made his way behind the bar and let his elbows rest on the counter, with his head nestled in his hands. "Why don't you stay a tad longer and really enjoy the club life of us 'standard' programs?"

Tron gave Zuse an indifferent look, only being mildly thrown-off from the show of strength the white-clad club owner used to force him to sit. "Because', started Tron, 'I am only here because Flynn wished for me to . . ."

"Ah, yes,' interrupted Zuse, 'as it is written, so it shall be. My, my, our great and omniscient Creator certainty has you wrapped around his finger doesn't he? One would think he_ hadn't_ gone and abandoned us for twenty-or-so cycles."

Tron's eyes narrowed. "I would not be speaking so flippantly about Flynn were I you, Zuse, he could have merely let your coding drift endlessly beyond the outskirts of the Grid, but he did not, he re-uploaded you, when he had very little reason to do so."

Though no indication of discomfort appeared on Zuse's face, the flamboyant program raised his hands in defense. "Oh don't get me wrong; O' great defender of Flynn, I am more than knowledgeable of out Creator's disdain for me. You sell out his son to his malicious clone once, for completely justifiable reasons, such as the continuance of one's existence, and the next thing you know you're active again with the Creator in your face threatening permanent de-resolution if you ever 'pull a stunt like that' again.' Zuse grinned, 'Trust me; I'm under no delusions of how Flynn feels about yours truly."

Tron nearly rolled his eyes, trust Zuse to say things on to get a rise out of him, it seemed to be the exuberant program's favorite past time.

"That does, however,' starts Zuse, his eyes looking slyly to the left of Tron, his index finger making circular motions on the bar top's smooth surface, body language coming off as though he was beginning an offhanded observation, 'Segue into another fascinating topic."

"Such as?" asked Tron dryly, at this point, though, he was really only humoring the other program.

Zuse's eyes flitted to looking upwards. "Such as,' began Zuse, stringing out his words to an almost riling drawl, 'how our creator feels . . ." Eyes then suddenly staring directly at Tron, Zuse's lips curved into a self-satisfying smirk, and he delivered the finish. " . . . About. _You_."

Tron could only raise an eyebrow to Zuse's statement. Just what exactly was he inferring? "What do you mean, Zuse?"

Zuse's smirk broke out into a full beam. "Oh don't play coy Trony, you and I both know _exactly_ what I mean."

The questioning security program could honestly say he did not know what exactly Zuse meant, and Tron could tell from the glee brimming in club owner's eyes that he would have to be direct with Zuse if he was going to get to the point.

"Zuse . . ." It was little more than a warning, Tron did not appreciate being toyed with. The afore mentioned program's eyes widened delightedly. "So you really don't know, hmmm?" Tron made to get up, but was quickly stopped by Zuse.

"Okay! Okay. I can see your sense of humor is still non-existent, let's imagine a little scenario, shall we?" Ever the showman, Zuse stretched out his arms, calling up his charismatic nature, and began telling his tale, a slightly impatient Tron teetering between curiosity and annoyance.

"Our great Creator, the User Kevin Flynn, is the Grid's equivalent of a god, no? Whenever that dazzling white flash of light appears, signaling his arrival, every program within the immediate vicinity looks towards it, awe etched in their innocent little faces. Such is the effect of Mr. High-and-Mighty himself. Kevin Flynn goes walking in the streets and programs will bow, on hand and foot even, in his vast presence. The whole of the Grid looks onto him, Tron, his powers inconceivable to many, and he is looked at as this incredible being. Yet, when he is surrounded by these programs that look at him with nothing less than admiration and astonishment, do you know who he looks at with such similar and far more profound emotions in his eyes? Who is the one thing, that when all eyes are on him, only his attention is for? You, Tron, _only_ you."

Zuse finished, looking satisfied, and Tron sat there, his head down, staring at his hands now firmly gripping his drink, unable to think of anything to say. His first move was to simply ignore what Zuse said, he could hardly be a reliable source for anything, much less an expert on the emotions for Users. But the club owner's words held to Tron, getting to him in a way he didn't know words could.

'_It's impossible_,' Tron thought, '_I may not have an excessive knowledge of emotions, but I know Flynn does not regard me in such a way_.'

But, Zuse said it with such conviction . . .

Whatever internal battle was taking place within Tron must have been easily read by Zuse, for his voice suddenly registered. "Believe me Tron, all the admiration and affection from all programs of the Grid _pales_ in comparison to you." Then, offhandedly said, "I'm rather surprised you haven't noticed, even being as unobservant on these matters as you are . . ."

Tron suddenly jumped from his seat, backing away. These things Zuse was saying were not true, not true! They were either mis-observations on the white-haired program's part, Zuse's taking actions out of context, or intentional fabrications intended to cause disarray within him. Either way, they were falsehoods, Flynn saw Tron only as a friend, a confidant, nothing more. Even more so, Tron was utterly incapable to feel as deeply as Zuse _claimed_ Flynn felt. A friend was one thing, a companion, something entirely within his security protocols to understand and interact with, but something more? To be seen as something more was unsettling, because it was not something, that as a security program, Tron could fully understand.

The End-of-Line proprietor merely looked at Tron, knowing the other program didn't believe him, his denial coming off of him so clearly that Zuse could see precisely why Tron hadn't picked up on Flynn's feelings before. "I assure you Tron,' Zuse said, 'I am not lying, but I see you for naivety's sake I'm going to have to spell this out for you. Kevin Flynn, Creator and User of the Grid, is in deep, un-abolished, and most likely unbearable, love with you."

The security program froze with those words hanging in the air, the whole club suddenly seeming far too quite, despite the overbearing music that still continued to play. Tron now found himself somewhere between being sorting through the plague of information that now rushed his system, and being unable to string together a coherent thought. He was sure his processors must be malfunctioning, for this place of limbo, of in between, seemed far too still, far to quite to be acceptable. '_It's impossible, it's not true_ . . .'

"Tron."

A voiced alerted the motionless program, and Tron was extraordinarily grateful for a distraction from his sudden purgatory. Tron turned and faced a familiar program that donned jet black hair and glowing orange eyes.

"Yes?" Tron responded, surprised by how tight his throat felt and how difficult it seemed to extract that one single word. The other program observed him thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. "There is an attack on the 12-G communications tower; the aggressors are rouge programs that are still under the allegiance of Clu."

"Then we must go." stated Tron. Pushing past the program he made for the door to the elevator, not taking a single look back, more than ready to leave End-of-Line.

The other program watched Tron leave for the elevator and made to follow him, but not before turning back to note the club's owner.

"Zuse." said the program, more of a statement than an actual acknowledgment, in a wholly unenthusiastic voice, accompanied by an unimpressed look on his face.

Zuse stared back at the orange-eyed program, his own face revealing the disdain he felt for the program in front of him. Only one word could properly address and convey his contempt all at once, and so he replied;

"Rinzler."

Hope you enjoyed the 1st chapter, the 2nd one will clear up, hopefully, any confusion. This does take place after Legacy.

*J'adore ca garcons, j'adore ca- I love it boys, I love it. 'Cause ya know, the DJs are Daft Punk, and Daft Punk is french, yeah.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Hello again. I must first thank all those who reviewed my story thus far, every review and story watch alert had me on cloud nine, it was a nice confidence booster. Secondly the bulk of this chapter was a much smaller segment in my mind, so some of the things I was going to clear up got pushed to chapter three, so if anyone is wondering how Kevin Flynn is walking around, don't worry, I will have him explained. Lastly, I don't have a beta-reader, so there will probably be some spelling and grammar errors, if there is a beta-reader amongst you who would like to help, then by all means tell me (but you'll have to explain we'd work together because I've never done faniction before.) And again, I do welcome constructive criticism and reviews really do make my day and push me to write.

Rinzler stepped off the platform of the End-of-Line's escalator, his booted feet hitting the smooth ground and senses taking note of the calmer atmosphere the outside had to offer in stark contrast to the dwellings of the club. The black-haired program sighted Tron only a few feet ahead, standing in the street, being passed by the occasional program, and simply staring off into the cities depths. Rinzler slowly approached Tron, not sure if he was disturbing his fellow security program in a much needed state of serene, but knowing that they needed to halt the actions of the rogue programs immediately.

"Tron?" the soft-spoken sound of Rinzler calling Tron's named seemed to startle the other program, a jerky movement that could only be captured by Rinzler's well trained eye, as though Tron hadn't noticed his presence until Rinzler had spoken, and . . . maybe he hadn't. The program in question turned to Rinzler, the expression on his face indecipherable for a moment before relaxing into an accustomed casual setting of his features.

"Are you alright Tron?" Rinzler felt the need to ask. He was by no means adept at reading facial expression, but he and Tron were one once, a complete being, and for that he was sure was the only reason he could read Tron better than others, if only slightly.

"I am operating faultlessly Rinzler, the 12-G tower you said?' Rinzler's nod was the only affirmation Tron needed, 'then let's go." Tron removed his vehicle rod from the strap on his lower leg and, taking a few steps back, he then sprinted forward and leapt into the air, separating the rod and felt the light-cycle code form around his body. The generating sequence finalizing, Tron landed with a complete cycle under him and sped off towards the communications tower.

Rinzler mimicked Tron's motions and followed after his fellow program. Buildings and programs blended into little more than multi-colored blurs as Tron and Rinzler raced by. Rinzler knew there was something troubling the brunette program, and although he could not be sure of what, he was sure Zuse had some connection to it.

'_I truly dislike that program_,' thought Rinzler, because, hate, was apparently to strong a word and he was asked to use it sparingly by both Kevin and Samuel Flynn, '_perhaps after the assailants are apprehended, I can tell one of the Users about how Tron seems_.'

Although he was not as acquainted with the Users as Tron was, they encouraged him to speak freely and act 'natural' around them. '_It is strange_,' Rinzler thought, '_to have relations with those I once called enemies_.' The orange-eyed program found himself recalling his first time truly meeting the Creator and his son.

_Where was he? What was he? These were the echoes of a fragmented program, something that neither seemed to be here or there. He was aware, but at the same time, was not. The only thing this lone program identified was the vast darkness that surround him, maybe was even a part of him. He did not know how long he was there, in a semi-existence, bits of code that had come together to form some sort of consciousness, until, he was something else._

_The program opened his eyes, the darkness he knew before was now something that could be seen, not just sensed. He looked down to his body; torso, arms, and legs, he was whole again. But his circuits shown with no color, only black, covering him. The program maneuvered slightly, testing his physique, something to do when he wasn't sure where he was or why he was there._

_"Program." A voice caught his attention and he looked over to see three other beings, all male, one of them was certainly a program, but the other two wore strange clothes. He was not sure how to respond. The program of the trio ceased moving a little ways from him, but the other two came closer to him, both looking cautious, but not intimidated._

_"Program,' said the voice again, coming from the taller and older looking of the two, 'Program, what is your identification and purpose?"_

_"Rinzler." The word left his mouth before he had a chance to really consider the question, but the designation 'Rinzler' seemed correct. The one speaking to him nodded, confirming his answer, "And your purpose?" His purpose, however, did not seem so easily forthcoming. Rinzler casted his eyes downward and searched through what was left of his protocols, finding the information he was looking for._

_"I am', came the answer slowly, 'Rinzler, I am repurposed coding intended to be an overlay and substitute routine for the original program Tron, my purpose was to follow out all orders without fail given to me by the program Clu."_

_"I see,' said the man carefully, 'that 'was' your purpose, huh? What is it now?"_

_That was a puzzling question indeed, because no matter how may self-diagnostics or data checks Rinzler ran, he could not find the answer._

_"I do not have one."_

_"And your opinion about your previous prime directive?"_

_Rinzler was not sure why, but his previous directive did not set well with him. He remembered Clu, the program who use to rule the Grid, he remembered that it was his duty to obey Clu's commands. Memories of those commands scratched at his mind. Rinzler had followed out orders to de-rezz, to fight defenseless programs in the Games, to help Clu eradicate all flaws within the Grid, and help create the perfect system. Rinzler's only purpose had been to do nothing more than what Clu demanded of him, that was all Rinzler had been, a program tailored specifically to Clu. Rinzler would not question, would not disobey, and would not show mercy._

_Rinzler looked the man in the eyes. That had been what he was, but no longer. The black haired program knew he now possessed a level of self-being he did not have when under Clu and now wished to use it._

"_I was only an empty program, created for the sole reason of being a warrior to a corrupt leader. I no longer wish to be defined as such."_

_The man looked to the younger one beside him, with a bit of what seemed to be humor in his eyes. "Well Sam, I think we have a winner, what do you think?" _

_The one called 'Sam' did not look so convinced. "I don't know Dad . . ."_

"_Come on Sammy, we can't take on re-building the Grid if we don't trust the programs living in it."_

"_That's easy for you to say, Rinzler didn't wipe the floor with _you_ in the games."_

"_Oh don't be like that, Quorra said you held off against him pretty good, and that's not the point. Rinzler was under Clu's control, and like Quorra said, he should be given a chance to be a free program, don't you think?"_

_Sam looked at his father, exasperated, and sighed. "Fine."_

_Sam's father grinned, turned back to Rinzler, and held his hand out. "Well Rinzler, I'm not sure how much or how well you remember before the Grid was wiped clean, so let's start by introducing ourselves. My name's Kevin Flynn and this is my son, Sam. We're Users of the Grid and want to know how you'd like to be a part of putting it back together." _

_Rinzler vaguely recalled the importance behind the name 'Flynn' but was sure it would fully come to him in time. The program reached out hesitantly and took Kevin Flynn's hand._

"_Not that I refute it, but you seem to have forgiven me so easily, why?" Flynn let go of Rinzler's hand and gave the program a smile._

"_Let's just say it's one of my User flaws, and a good word put in for you from a certain program called Quorra."_

_Rinzler did not recognize the name Quorra, but was grateful to the program none the less for convincing the two Users to give him a chance when all reason said he shouldn't have one. Flynn clapped a hand to his shoulder. "But don't thing you're getting off that easy, we're going to need your help getting this place up and running again."_

_Rinzler nodded. "Yes. I wish to help protect the Grid from true threats, and protect the programs that reside here, not make them live in fear."_

_Flynn's features lit up. "Well that sure sounds like the makings of a security program, and what better way to find out, then ask the main security man program himself?" And with that, Flynn turned and gestured to the program that had stayed a ways back from Kevin and Sam Flynn's inspection of Rinzler._

_The program calmly walked the distance to where the two Users were standing and placed himself on Kevin Flynn's right. Now in front of him, Rinzler took in this program's appearance. He was no taller than Kevin Flynn, with brown hair and blue eyes, and circuitry illuminating a light, yet vibrant blue. Rinzler felt something of a connection to this program, almost as if they were the same, but different. . ._

"_You are Tron." Rinlzer said this as a statement, not a question. He knew that he had been made from the repurposed coding of the program before him. What Rinzler didn't know, however, was what to say. How could he apologize for essentially being a virus that warped a once great program?_

_Tron looked at Rinzler, his blue eyes almost scanning the black haired program right to his core until he finally spoke;_

"_I do not blame you for Clu's actions. You only did as he ordered you to do because that was the basic function of your programing. I will not judge you for what you did, but for what you do from here on. Do not squander Quorra's efforts for you, nor Flynn's trust in you, or Sam's reluctant acceptance of you, and I believe you will do well as a security program."_

_Flynn let out a laugh and slung an arm around Tron's shoulders. "Well I think that settles it. I can give you the proper upgrades and inputs of a security program, but Tron here has experience and I think learning from the best is where you'll really get the hang of things. So, Rinzler, welcome to the Grid."_

Rinzler pulled himself from his thoughts. He had met Quorra a little time after his re-coding for a proper security program system. She was a program he hazily remembered, but Kevin Flynn had explained to him that it was possible his recollections of before might never be fully whole. Rinzler's code had essentially been pulled from Tron's, so fragments could have been lost, or still lay with Tron; something Rinzler didn't want the blue eyed program to lay burdened with.

Quorra was a kind program. She held an innocence that did not detract from her skills as a fighter and her spirit was something to be admired. When Rinzler had asked Quorra why she had spoken on his behalf, she smiled and told him, 'You were a victim of Clu, just like me.' From what Quorra had told him, when Kevin and Sam Flynn were searching through the remnants of the Grid and found Tron's code, it was still embedded with Rinzler's. Both Flynns were ready to permanently delete him with one swift press of a key, but Quorra had stopped them, asking what had Rinzler done to deserve not even a chance?

Sam Flynn had retaliated with multiple reasons, of which included; almost killing them, working with Clu, going after his father, and almost shooting them out of the sky, thus almost killing them again. Kevin Flynn merely brought up the fact that Rinzler was nothing more than an invading sequencer that took over Tron. Quorra, however, did not back down. She explained to them that Rinzler only did as he was programed to, that what he did could always be traced back to what Clu commanded. When Rinzler had captured Quorra, he only held her to the spot, awaiting Clu. He did not hit her or threaten her; even when Quorra struggled and shouted obscenities at him.

When Quorra had taken a moment to calm down, she took time to fully judge the program that held her, and what she discovered slightly frightened her. This was Clu's idea of perfection; a soldier, one that did not speak, that had no face, and did only has Clu commanded, nothing more. Rinzler was a program that had been twisted into a puppet, one that did not choose to be what he was, and that was why Quorra wanted to give him a true chance.

Although it had taken sometime to convince father and son Flynn, they eventually agreed to separate Rinzler from Tron and build up the proper rudimentary code for him to be his own program. But if they went to speak with Rinzler and it turned out that he was still 'Clu's perfect little soldier', Quorra was to delete him. Needless to say, Rinzler had met their approval.

'_And I am forever grateful'_ thought Rinzler.

"We're almost there!" Tron's shout gained Rinzler's attention and he looked up to see the 12-G communications tower straight ahead. Tron slowed to a stop a little ways from the tower with Rinzler coming up behind him. "Okay', started Tron, 'it looks as though a group of three is right in front, trying to break into the feed network. I'll ride straight through them, but I need you to circle around and watch my back; we have to assume there are more programs out of eye sight." Rinzler nodded and waited for Tron to make his move.

Tron backed his light-cycle up, focusing on the group of programs that were unaware of his and Rinzler's presence. Hitting the accelerator, the blue eyed program sped off and hit a jump, causing his cycle to catch the air, sending him right over the heads of the rouge programs. In the air, Tron de-activated his light-cycle and strapped the reformed vehicle rod to his leg once again. His grabbed his Identity Disk and used one of the assailing programs to soften his landing. This clearly caught the attention of the two programs not unconscious and Tron readied himself to fight.

Once Tron had hit the air, Rinzler took off; circling the area of the tower that was being attacked, keeping an eye out for other rouge programs that were lucky enough to not be initially seen. Rinlzer knew Tron could hold his own against three programs easily, but was still uneasy about how Tron had been earlier, and so his glance occasionally drifted towards the main fight to make sure Tron wasn't in more trouble than he could handle. His on looking was diverted, however, when an Identity Disk flew towards him, only missing its intended target by inches.

Rinlzer jumped off his cycle and landed gracefully, his eyes narrowing as he confronted two programs that came into view. One held his hand up, reclaiming his thrown Disk. The two programs looked smug, obviously taking pride in the fact that they caught Rinzler off guard, perhaps even at the fact that it was two against one.

'_How unfortunate for them_.' thought Rinzler, as he moved into a fighting stance and reached behind his back, because he, unlike Tron, who preferred to work with only one Identity Disk, found his talents still best lie with dual weapons. Rinzler grabbed his ID Disk and placed it in front of him, then casually pulled it part, making what seemed like a singular disk into two. The use of two Identity Disks had been a trademark of Rinzler that all programs knew him by during Clu's reign. It appeared that these two programs were not unfamiliar of this knowledge, for suddenly they didn't look to smug anymore.

Tron's Disk soared and cleany de-rezzed one of his opponents, their code falling in cubed pieces to the ground. The security program whipped around and kicked the one coming on his left to the floor before retrieving his Disk and holding it to the fallen program's throat.

"Why do you fight for a leader that no longer exists, one that showed no mercy to any of his subjects?" it was something Tron truly did not understand.

The program glared and gave an empty chuckle. "I could ask you the same thing Tron. Why do you continue to fight for a User who abandoned the whole Grid, the same pathetic User who just abandoned you, when you so proudly proclaimed you fought for his kind?"

The program's talking of Flynn brought back Tron's conversation with Zuse, the exuberant program's voice echoing in his head.

'_Who is the one thing, that when all eyes are on him, only his eyes are for?_'

Tron closed his eyes and shook his head, willing the voice to go away. '_No, now is not the time to get distracted by the musings of a deceitful program!_'

"Tron!"

Tron looked to the direction of the voice to see Rinzler racing towards him on his light-cycle; motioning wildly with an arm, the other steadying the cycle on its path, anxiety marring his face. Tron's eyes widen when he realized why Rinzler was calling his attention, but the seconds between when Rinzler called out to him and when Tron became aware of the danger, it was too late. The blue eyed program looked up and swerved around to see the program he had previously knocked unconscious above him, Identity Disk drawn, and there was no time.

Everything looked to be in slow motion as the attacking program's Disk came down, cutting right into Tron's coding. Tron wasn't sure of he yelled, what sound could possibly describe the feeling of concentrated energy slicing into your very processors and leaving them to shatter? Tron's hand involuntarily released his Disk, allowing it to fall next to the head of the program he had been holding down, and reached to his side, feeling bits of code crumble and fall away. The injured security program vaguely registered hitting the ground, all sight and sound dimming, until there was nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author: I first must apologize for the extreme late-ness of this chapter. A mix of getting sick and my classes changing had me focausing on school work. I made sure to get this chapter done, wanted it out before the Legacy movie comes out to buy (can't wait). I thank all who have reviewed and story-alerted this story and I hope this being late is forgven. To be honest, I wanted this chapter to end futher into the story, but it would have taken far to long, so off to the next chapter it will go. Please review, critiquing is also welcome, letting me know how this story is going really motivates me to write it better and faster.**

Rinlzer had easily dispatched his opponents. Had he been a lesser fighter, then the two rogue programs might have stood a chance, but it was not so. Flynn had once used an expression; "It's better to be lucky than good." In this case, however, luck had only served his enemies the element of surprise. Being more adept at battle would have aided the orange-eyed program's challengers far better than 'luck'.

Once he dispatched the two, the remnants of their code breaking up into nothingness, Rinzler made to re-focus his attention to Tron. Some length away his fellow security program was spotted, holding down one of the unruly programs, Identity Disk threatening to strike. Rinzler narrowed his eyes; it was difficult to see the far-off scene, but he was sure the program beneath Tron was speaking to him.

Whatever words were said, they seemed to affect Tron, whose eyes snapped shut and head shook right to left, as though trying to shake-off some unseen inflicted pain. However, Rinzler's gaze did not stay on Tron for long. Another program was coming up behind his friend, ID Disk clutched tightly in his hand. As soon as Rinzler realized that Tron was completely unaware of the enemy behind him, the black haired program moved to action.

Rinzler jumped back on his fallen light-cycle, revved up the power, and took off. He shouted for Tron, unsure if the program could hear him, and motioned wildly with his free arm in a desperate attempt to warn the blue eyed program of the impending danger.

Tron did notice his frantic companion, but not soon enough. Rinzler had made it to the scene just in time to watch in painfully agonizing detail as Tron turned to face his unnoticed enemy; only to be struck down by the offender's Disk. Tron's code broke off into cubic chunks, fragmenting into bits, and de-rezzing into oblivion. The injured security program vainly reached for his side, more code slipping through his fingers as he collapsed to the ground.

The rogue program made to deliver a finishing blow but Rinzler's Identity Disk sliced through him; a look of barley registered shock was the expression the program wore as he de-rezzed. The program Tron had previously subdued made a run for it and Rinzler let him escape, knowing that between Tron's survival and going after the fleeing adversary, Tron's life was the priority.

Rinzler once again left his light-cycle, and rushed to his fallen comrade's side. The security program lay still, hand limp over his de-rezzed left side, and eyes half-lidded, looking at nothing. Rinzler lifted Tron carefully, making sure not to jostle the blue-eyed program in such a fragile state. Rinzler knew time was of the essence, and he was going to have to contact at least one of the two Flynns, immediately.

A sudden and annoying beeping sound called Sam Flynn from what had been a peaceful and comfortable sleep. In response to the disturbance, the younger Flynn turned on his side, and buried himself deeper into his comforter, hoping the noise would subside and let him return to his slumber. It took less than a few seconds for the blonde haired man to recognize the noise for what it was; someone from The Grid was trying to contact him.

Though his tired body protested, Sam sat up and threw his legs over the side of his bed. He rested his arms on his knees for a moment and rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep from them. Only two programs could be trying to get ahold of him, Tron or Rinzler. Creating a permanent communications channel open between The Grid and the 'real' world had been a tricky thing. Matching up the time variables had been pretty difficult, not to mention creating a smooth and direct flow from a port in The Grid that wasn't a communications tower to his computer, but it had been deemed necessary by both Users and programs of the parties involved. Nobody wanted to be caught in another 'incident' and not be able to call for help.

'Man', thought the tired blonde, 'things have changed since Quorra and I got back from The Grid.'

* * *

Life was certainly different after Sam's brush with the computer world. For what felt to be the first time in his life, the younger Flynn knew exactly what he was going to do. He had told Alan to be at the office bright and early the next morning, and although his surrogate father-figure looked skeptical, probably suspicious about being drawn in as an unwilling accomplice for another one of Sam's pranks, he said he'd be there.

That following morning hadn't seemed too unusual for the Encom board of Directors, who were sitting in on another meeting and discussing the cleanup of Sam Flynn's disastrous little prank. Well, it had seemed normal, until the head share-holder himself came strolling in mid-meeting with one of the best lawyers in the state tailing behind him and announced that he was taking his company back.

Alan's face going from sheer disbelief to uncontainable pride had Sam feeling the most confident he'd ever been. The other board members with their mouths agape was purely icing on the cake.

It hadn't been easy, putting Encom back under the reigns of Flynn. There were several pissed-off managers, chiefs, executives, and directors who didn't want some adrenaline junkie coming in and ruining the business. The flat out refusal of Sam as the president of Encom had been completely expected. There was so much denial that the case had been taken to court, another scenario Sam had anticipated, but with the help of his A-Grade lawyer, the young Flynn had been ruled in favor of. The judge could do nothing unless there was proof that Sam Flynn was leading Encom to intentional devastation. The only devastation Sam intended to release was on the employment statuses of the more greedy members and profiteers of Encom, who were coincidently enough, the one's that wanted him booted from the big chair.

Yet, there were many people at Encom who were glad to see Sam takes his father's place; the good old days of Kevin Flynn at the top of Encom were not forgotten. Between firing corrupt employees, quite a few just quitting, and Alan's support and persuading of other workers to give Sam a fair chance, Sam Flynn had a stable hand on Encom.

Getting his father's company back had been the easy part. It had taken every ounce of willpower Sam owned not to look through the drive that contained the remnants of The Grid. But, with Quorra's encouragement and his own determination, Sam had been able to wait; Encom had to come first.

Not to mention life. Introducing Quorra to the User world was a feat all in itself. Life in The Grid hadn't made her incompetent to the practical ways of the world, stuff like not walking around naked and not walking into traffic were things Sam didn't have to elaborate on. But if Sam had a dime for every question Quorra had asked him in those first few weeks of being introduced to this new and colorful place, the blonde man could have retired to the Caribbean by the following month.

Luckily for Sam, Quorra was a quick learner, something that didn't really come as a surprise to the User, playing cat-and-mouse with Clu's army tended to only be survived by someone who could quickly think on his or her feet. Sam also had to move out of his "garage" as Alan had so plainly put it and get an apartment for him to share with the program-turned-User. Sam had been tempted to tell Alan about Quorra's true origins, to sit down with his surrogate father over a beer and pour his soul out to the older man about everything that had happened, that all the games and crazy ideas Kevin Flynn came up with about a civilization in the computer were true, that his dad _hadn't_ abandoned him.

But the more Sam thought on revealing the truth to Alan, the more he figured it was simply easier to let Alan believe whatever he thought had happened to the eccentric Flynn all those years ago. So Sam made up a well-conceived story on who Quorra was, where she came from, and why she was living with him and was going to be his secretary at Encom. Sam's almost father had been less than impressed, gently but firmly reminding the younger man why relationships and work shouldn't mix, especially with Sam just moving into his leading business position.

Sam knew he wasn't going to convince Alan that there was nothing romantic going on between him and his new female friend, but he tried anyway, telling Alan that Quorra was a hard worker who knew the inner-workings of a computer even better than he did, no lies there.

"_Alright, alright,' said Alan dolefully, pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, 'but please Sam be careful, you know that there are going to be rumors spreading around the minute you introduce her. It'll be 'Play-Boy CEO and his pretty new secretary'." Alan sighed and looked Sam right in the eye. "The last thing I want to have happen is for your reputation to be run into the ground before it's had a chance to take off."_

Sam smiled, warmed by Alan's concern for him and at the same time feeling guilty about lying to him. Still, the young Flynn kindly pointed out that he'd para-jumped off the Encom tower right after posting millions of dollars' worth of software free to the internet, so it's not like his reputation had a great start to begin with.

Alan threw his hands into the air in defeat and gave Sam a hard 'sometimes you're too much like your father for your own good' look and walked away. Luckily, Quorra had grown on Alan. Her warm personality and innocent inquiries had his father-figure taking Quorra under his wing and taking time to explain things she didn't understand, which were few and far between. It had taken time for Quorra to understand code from the perspective of being out and looking in instead of just interfacing directly, but as soon as she had, the dark-haired ISO became a force to be reckoned with, rumors of her getting her job as secretary for her looks dying down as soon as they'd risen. While Alan still didn't believe that there was nothing going on between Sam and Quorra of the relationship variety, Sam was grateful for things to finally be running smoothly.

Once he felt that he could appropriately play 'CEO' with the rest of the big dogs _and_ juggle a search mission, Sam decided he wasn't going to wait any longer made to find his father. Quorra had said there might have been a chance that Kevin Flynn's code still remained in The Grid. It was always known that re-integration with Clu would probably result in the Creator's death, but it didn't mean that he was completely gone, just scattered, and Sam was the one who had to find the pieces to put his dad back together.

So began the long days and nights that could be spared, and sometimes not spared, staring at a computer screen and running fingers across a keyboard, trying to find some sort of hope. During these spans of time Sam Flynn would be little more than a machine, constantly scanning through miscellaneous code, until Quorra would remind him to eat, sleep, and to remind him that he ran a company and should be wary of his health. But Sam couldn't just stop; he had to find his father.

After months of simultaneously running Encom and searching for bits of his dad, Sam snapped. The stress of both tasks was just too much. Dealing with non-complaint business-executives day in and out, everyone running to him in hysterics the moment a _printer_ stopped working, and the older corporation partners giving him hesitant looks very time he proposed something new was taking its toll. Sam's eyes were tired and dry from staring at the computer screen, his fingers were cramped from the endless typing, and he was just so damn exhausted of looking for someone who was probably just dead!

Sam yelled and threw his monitor across the room, it meet the opposing wall with a dull crack. Quorra came running in, wide-eyed at the livid man before her.

"Sam, are you alright?" Her voice held such a tender note that all the anger and frustration within Sam fled his body. The blonde man looked up at Quorra, black bags under his eyes, and a voice that screamed defeat.

"I just can't do this anymore Quorra, I'm tired of it."

"Then get some sleep." It was an abrupt and chipper answer. Sam fixed her with a perplexed gaze. Get some sleep? How was sleep going to fix anything? Was it going to get his father back? Was it going to miraculously make those unimaginative old geezers twirling in their office chairs grow some backbone? Was sleep going to fix his damn monitor . . .?

"Sam,' Quorra was now eye level, kneeling in front of him, 'you need rest. The moment we returned from The Grid, you've done nothing but work." She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "You've been teaching me about User life, showing me your world and how to live in it. You took back your father's company and have been busy trying to return it to its former glory. And now, you're trying to search through cycles and cycles of data and information for just one strand of code. You need to take a break. You need to not think about Encom, not treat me as your responsibility, and to know that The Grid isn't going anywhere."

"So,' stated Quorra pertly, her eyes bright, 'you're going straight to bed."

Sam knew there was no point in arguing. He trudged to his room and made for the bed, only pausing to set his alarm. Sam could hear Quorra shuffling in the other room, probably cleaning the mess he'd made. After a few moments, the blonde haired User's eyes began to drop, sleep suddenly not seeming so impossible, and Sam fell into slumber.

Sam had awoken to the sun shining on his face. He grumbled and rolled over, drawing the blanket over his head. Remembering last night's tantrum, Sam threw off his comforter and looked over to his night stand . . . where his alarm clock mysteriously disappeared. Despite his body feeling too heavy, and yet well rested, Sam got up.

The young Flynn changed out of his shirt and decided that wrinkly pants never killed anyone. Sam threw on his jacket, grabbed his bike keys, walked out of his room, and went to the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Sam jumped and turned to face Quorra.

"Uhhhh . . . to get a new screen." Why did he feel guilty? He wasn't trying to sneak out.

"Not until you've had breakfast." Sam bit back a groan. Ever since discovering the cooking channel, Quorra had a growing desire to cook, and to be honest, she was terrible at it. Sam really just wanted to leave so he could get back to work, but the ISO's arched eyebrow told him differently. So Sam made his way to the kitchen, slouched, praying that this ordeal would go by smoothly.

The impatient Flynn sat down at the makeshift diner table, followed closely by Quorra who set a bowel in front of him and went to sit in the second chair. Sam looked down at his food to be pleasantly surprised that it was oatmeal mixed with some fruit. He dipped a spoon in to get a better look, the oatmeal appeared to be innocent enough, but then again, so did that roasted chicken . . . which ended up decorating the kitchen ceiling last week.

Sniffing his breakfast, the Flynn gave a shrug and took a bite. It wasn't bad. The oatmeal was simple in a good way, and it reminded Sam how sporadic his eating had been for the last few weeks; drinking coffee and grabbing a bite here and there.

Once they both were finished, Sam took the bowls to the sink and again went to the door, only to be stopped, again, by Quorra.

"Yes?" asked Sam, desperately trying not to sound irritated.

Quorra smiled. "You didn't think you were going without me, did you?"

That was exactly what he thought. But Sam knew that Quorra was coming, with or without his consent, so he grabbed the car keys instead, which Alan said he needed because 'the president of Encom can't ride into work every morning on a motorcycle' blah, blah, something about looking like a real business man.

Walking to the car, Sam decided that the mall would be the best place to go and off they went. The young Flynn had figured it would be fast; go in, get the monitor, get out. Ha! How dare he think it could be so simple? The moment he and Quorra went inside, the onyx haired girl looked at him with wide-eyed enthusiasm and a smile. Quorra grasped Sam's arm and he knew his day just got longer.

Quorra loved the mall. Any place, really, with large groups of people. She loved to watch Users interact with one another, made a game out of finding the similarities and differences between programs and the beings she now lived amongst. This world of so full of life, a sharp contrast to the dictator-esc realm Quorra had survived in most her existence, so she intended to enjoy every minute of it.

The ISO's enjoyment of life, however, caused fast-paced, all-nighters, 'I'll stop when I'm finished' people like Sam to slow down to an almost painful degree. He was use to the User world, and while Quorra's utter amazement in the simplest thing Sam took for granted was refreshing and amusing, it didn't take away from the fact that he needed to find his father.

But after browsing through multiple stores, looking at pointless trinkets, and surrounded by everyday people, all in Quorra's animated presence, Sam was really starting to enjoy himself. They went into a clothes store to try on ridiculous hats, they went to coddle puppies in the pet shop, and even stopped for lunch, laughing at what they'd seen that day.

Once lunch was over, the two finally stopped into a tech store and bought a new screen. It was late by them time Sam and Quorra got back to their apartment, so delivery for diner was mutually agreed on. The young Flynn set up the monitor to his computer as they waited for their meal to arrive.

Everything was set up, computer on, new monitor bright, and Sam's fingers hovered over the keyboard, at a loss as to what to do. A thought occurred to him and he gave himself a good whack to the head for being stupid. Sam hadn't been taking care of himself, physically and mentally, and he was exhausted all the time, having just enough energy to deal with Encom's bull and then go home to pour hours over looking at fragmented code. Sam just had the most fun and relaxing day he'd had in a while and all because Quorra had to force him too. The young Flynn felt rejuvenated and in a far better mood than he could remember feeling in a while. He wasn't going to do his dad, or Encom, any good by being high-strung and tired all the time. Being miserable sucked, and Quorra didn't deserve his attitude. Sam sighed and resloved; The Grid wasn't going anywhere . . .

With that, Sam turned off his computer and went into the small living room to join Quorra in waiting for diner, her smile border-lining a victorious grin.

The weeks after that carried on better. If Sam got to the point of re-creating the monitor incident, Quorra would take over so the blonde could have a break. Quorra was actually very good a searching through the vast numbers of code. While it was all numbers and data points to Sam, Quorra could actually see the images of what the code was. She'd point to the screen and say 'See Sam? That's part of a building' or 'That cluster of code was a light-cycle.'

Sam would just shake his head, unbelievingly but grateful. Without Quorra, Sam would have probably been found dead in his computer chair ages ago. And almost a year after reclaiming Encom and beginning the search for his father, Quorra's exclamation was something Sam never thought he'd hear.

"Sam! Sam! I found him!"

The young Encom president rushed over to Quorra, nearly knocking her out of the chair in the process. Sam stopped a moment and took a deep breath. Brown eyes peered at the section of code dancing across the screen Quorra was currently pointing at.

"It's really him." Sam couldn't believe it, but there it was. Code segments that were part of Kevin Flynn had finally been found after endless hours of shuffling through the chaos that had been the leftovers of The Grid. Now that they had code to go by, Sam and Quorra could use the properties to send out a tracer and collect the rest data with an exact match. It was now only a matter of time.

And time it took. Every moment not dedicated to Encom or his personal health had Sam in a nail-biting frenzy, even the pinnacle of calm Quorra was not immune to the ever growing tension. Each time the continuously running computer dinged, signaling another cluster of code belonging to Kevin Flynn had been found, Sam flinched: coming this close only fail was something he genuinely feared facing . . .

Then it was done. Sam had returned home after a sarcastically wonderful day at the head of Encom. Butting heads with Dillinger was something he used to make a game out of, always ready to give a triumphant victory smirk the moment he was proven right and ready to glower the few instances he was proven wrong. Truth was, Dillinger was smart, and while Sam wanted to fire that ignorant ass the second he had the power to do so, he had to admit that Dillinger was more of an asset than he was a problem . . . for the time being. So the young Flynn had to swallow his pride and welcome the junior Dillinger to the new re-ordering of the company, as the man said he wasn't going to roll over and quit because some pretty-boy with maturity issues now sat in the big chair.

Dillinger had been pushing his buttons more lately, obvious to the fact that Sam had something else on his mind and enjoyed fraying the CEO's divided attention. The blonde had never so badly wanted to bash that fake smile and obnoxiously mocking respect lacing Dillinger's voice, but Sam didn't. Instead he tried to get his mind into a Zen-like state, or whatever his dad would go on about, until he could vent at home, low-and-behold the surprise waiting for Sam when walked through his front door. The young Flynn removed his stuffy jacket, kicked off his shoes, made a bee-line for the refrigerator, and glanced at his computer while chugging and open carton of orange juice.

Sam's juice ended up sputtered all over his screen. Flashing in an oddly hypnotic sequence were the words what he'd been anxiously waiting for:

PROGRAM: KEVIN FLYNN

STATUS: RECOVERED

.

.

.

HOW DOES USER WISH TO PROCEED?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Authour's Note: Bleh, do I feel bad and apologize once again, it took me so long to write this chapter out only to produce something I feel is more filler than plot. I wanted the chapter to be longer, but I felt it was a good point to stop and anything further wouldn't flow right. Please Review, it does help.**

This was it. After months of sifting through scattered data and fractured code, Sam had finally found his father.

Sam and Quorra had put their plan into action a while ago, something for Sam to plot out to keep him from going crazy. If they were to find Kevin, which they had, then they would take his code to the arcade and re-integrate him through the laser.

It was a simple, yet solid course of action.

If Quorra, a program who'd never been outside the Grid, could materialize into the User world perfectly, then why couldn't Kevin Flynn, a man who was originally human?

The only problem had been the laser itself. Sam had left it in Flynn's Arcade, not even momentarily thinking it would be safe at Encom, but that left the young Flynn with few options on how to study the machine in order to understand how it worked. Sam didn't want to go in over his head with something he didn't understand, only to have it blow up in his face.

Quorra had offered the idea of asking Alan, since him and his wife Lora had worked with the laser, Laura being there from the beginning.

Sam had wanted to. He wanted to call his father's best friend over, sit him down, and tell the older programmer everything that transpired in the Grid over a couple of beers. But Sam couldn't. Giving the _unlikely_ possibility that Alan believed him, the last thing Sam wanted to do was get Alan's and Lora's hopes up, he could barely stand to have his own. The two had been devastated over Kevin Flynn's disappearance, Lora ending up angry at Kevin just leaving everyone without a word, including his son, and Alan with hope that someday Kevin would come back with an explanation to it all.

So Sam said nothing to his almost-father and did what he did best; break into Encom and steal information.

Well, not so much break into Encom as just breaking into Alan's office and shuffling through his old filing cabinet and taking the folder that held all the knowledge man had on the laser.

This lead Quorra and Sam to pour over the contents of the folder, both committing themselves to its information, which brought the two back to the arcade, drive holding Kevin Flynn in hand.

Sam was nervous as Quorra uploaded his father's code to an empty port where they would be able to retrieve him from through the laser. Every awful scenario played itself through the blonde man's mind.

'What if the laser breaks down? What if his dad suffered some kind of memory loss? What if his code was forever stuck inside a computer? What if this almost works? What if this doesn't work at all?'

"Sam."

Quorra's cool voice broke him from the vicious cycle his thoughts were forming.

"Sorry, what?" The ISO's eyes drifted down and Sam's own followed hers; his hands were shaking like mad.

Quorra stepped in front of him and gently covered his hands with her petite ones, ceasing their trembling. The brunette girl looked him square in the eye, her gaze never faulting and said the words that loaned Sam her confidence:

"I'm worried to, but everything will be fine."

Sam had to crack a smile. "Looks like dad's Zen stuff rubbed off on you, you're abnormally calm for someone who says they're worried."

Quorra shrugged and returned his smile, moving back to the screen to monitor their progress.

It wasn't too long after that when Quorra announced that Kevin's code was done uploading and all the sequences for the laser were in place.

"All that's left,' she said, 'is for that key to be pressed. It will activate the laser, which should essentially download Kevin Flynn into this world."

Sam eyed the Enter key warily, but with all the inner strength he'd held onto over all this time to find his father, Sam Flynn's finger fell upon the key. Off to the side Sam saw the laser charging up, lights beginning to blink in a rapid succession as he and Quorra moved further away from the machine.

A familiar, blinding light encompassed the room and Sam had to shut his eyes. Mere moments passed and Sam was aware that the light was dimming, but didn't dare open his eyes. Quorra's hand suddenly slid into his and he gripped hers back, taking the comfort.

With courage, two blue eyes slowly opened and Sam became aware of two things; Quorra's eyes were still firmly shut, and there was another person in the room with them.

Sam nudged Quorra and the young ISO opened her eyes, joining Sam in staring at the man who wasn't there before.

The man had his back to them, but Sam could see him checking his arms, chest, face, testing to see if he was truly solid, really _there_.

However, when the man turned around, facing Sam and Quorra, The young Flynn's heart not only sunk, but went into a panicked frenzy. The man that stood before them had Kevin Flynn's face, but it was not the wrinkled, grayed face of Sam's father and Quorra's mentor, it was the face of the man Sam remembered from twenty years ago, the face of Clu.

'We made a mistake, we brought back Clu. Did we miss-read Clu's code for my dad's? What did we do? No! No, no, no, no!'

Before Sam had the chance to contemplate what to do next, whether it be to attack or run, the Kevin look-a-like spoke.

" . . . Sam?" The voice that spoke struck Sam to a pause. It held no malice, no arrogance, no false compassion. It was a confused voice, unsure yet hopeful, coated with disbelief. Clu's face could never be so open, nor his voice ever give so much away. Sam didn't know how or why he was seeing his father the same as the last day he'd ever been seen, but he knew he man he was looking at _was_ his father.

" . . . Hey,' Sam had regained his voice, as coarse as it now sounded. 'You look, so, so . . ."

"Young?" His dad finished, emotion welling up in his voice as it was in Sam's.

" . . .Yeah."

And with that, Sam slowly went over to his dad and embraced him, much like he had on The Grid, except now he was holding on tighter, his father's arms holding him just as strongly, both with tears threatening to fall.

And for that moment, Sam was no longer Samuel Alan Flynn, owner of the multi-billion dollar Encom, breaching out from his father's shadow and stamping his own legacy on the world.

No, now he was little Sammy, the boy his dad had put to bed that night promising to play teams the next day at the arcade, the same boy who eagerly awaited his dad's return, only to miss him for the next twenty years, finally getting the reunion with his father that the strangeness of the Grid hadn't allowed.

A small cough caught the twos attention. Both looked over to see Quorra, head slightly bowed with tears trailing down her face.

"C'mere kiddo."

Quorra looked up to see Kevin Flynn holding out an arm for her, eyes glistening from indescribable joy.

The young ISO ran to him, nearly knocking both Flynn's over on impact. Quorra hugged the Creator, her mentor, the man that had been as much her father as he'd been Sam's.

There the three stood; Sam happy to have his father back, Quorra happy to have her teacher back, and Kevin Flynn just happy to be back. While having a man who'd been missing for two decades suddenly appear without aging a day would be difficult to explain, Sam decided to figure it out later, now, he had his dad back.

* * *

Sam shook himself out of his memories and went to his beeping computer, taking a moment to stretch sleep stiff muscles. He bent over to see who was contacting them and what about, eyes not focusing right away.

REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSITANCE: TRON INJURED

Sam's eyes widened the second the message sunk into and sprinted to his dad's room, nearly tripping over some miscellaneous object in the darkened hallway.

The blonde haired man made it to his dad's room, threw open the door, and switched on a light.

"Dad, get up!"

A human-shaped form shifted under the covers of the bed and grumbled.

"Wha . . .? Hmmm, Smm, wha' ya want?"

"Dad, get moving, Rinzler just contacted me and . . ." His dad made some unintelligible noise. "Uuuhgh, please explain to him that we Users need this wonderful thing called sleep." A hand emerged from the mound of covers to motion for Sam to go away.

Sam would have rolled his eyes had the situation not been so serious and quickly cut to the point. "Tron's been hurt."

That did it. Kevin Flynn flew out of his bed, clad in blue night shirt and sweat pants, barely slowing down to throw on shoes and grab his jacket. By the time Sam was moving to wake up Quorra, his dad's voice rang through the house:

"Move it or lose it kids!"

It took less than two minutes for Sam and Quorra to rush out of the house, but for Kevin Flynn, that was apparently to long. Sam saw his dad's expression from outside the car and didn't doubt that had they been a moment later, he would have taken off without them.

Sam went for the passenger seat as Quorra jumped in the back. Kevin hit the gas the second the two were in the car and sped off toward the arcade, treating the speed limit more like a suggestion.

Their car pulled up to the old arcade eight minutes later in which should have been a fifteen minute ride and all three bolted from the vehicle, rushing into the building.

Once inside the hidden room, Kevin's fingers danced across the keyboard in a flurry of motions, activating the laser. All stood together in front of the machine, the familiar sounds of it warming up and commencing were the precursor to the expected flash of blinding white light, and three pairs of eyes opened to the welcoming site of the Grid.


End file.
